Sleeping Willows
by SylvieT
Summary: News of Grissom's possible non-return to the show for Willows in the Wind, Catherine's departure episode, has left me dismayed and wondering. And this is what came of it. A behind-the-scenes phone call between BP and Marg Helgenberger with a hint of GSR.


A/N: I know I said I wouldn't have time to write anything until after Christmas, and I meant it, but this came to me while I was cooking and wouldn't leave me alone until I'd got it down on paper.

Grissom's possible non-return to the show for _Willows __in __the __Wind_, Catherine's departure episode has left me dismayed, perplexed and wondering. I hope TPTB are just messing with us, and keeping their cards close to their chests. Fingers crossed, but if they're not, what happened? I find it hard to believe that BP would simply refuse to appear for Marg's final moments on the show and I was pushed to find a plausible explanation for it. Sure he's busy with the kids, but filming a scene with Marg would take what? An afternoon?

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><p>Sleeping Willows.<p>

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><p>It was time to go, Marg thought wearily as she finished putting the last touches to her hair and make-up. She paused and sighed, and leaning forward in the chair took a moment to look at herself, really look at herself in the big mirror that cruelly highlighted every minute imperfection, every minor blemish and wrinkle. Even the thicker foundation she'd been using for the last two years wasn't hiding the deep lines of weariness and boredom etched in her face, around her eyes, in her soul, all over.<p>

It was time.

"Come on, girlie," she told her reflection in the mirror, "smile – a couple more weeks and you're done." Her face lit up at the thought. "Free at last. Free of these tight, stifling binds. You only need to take a look at Billy these days; he's a different man – looking younger, fitter, more travelled and more fulfilled with his life. _This _is the beginning of the rest of _your_ life." She'd been repeating the phrase like a mantra ever since she'd decided to put an end to her eleven-and-a-half years playing Catherine Willows on CSI.

Who was she trying to kid?

"Marg," came the director's loud voice over the PA system, and the spark that had illuminated her eyes a moment ago extinguished, "Be ready in fifteen!"

"Marg," she mimicked jadedly, her lip curling in distaste, "Ready in fifteen."

Truth be told, her inertia was more to do with disappointment. She'd given her best years to CSI and to playing Catherine, and she felt the writers weren't giving her and her character the send-off they deserved; she'd thought she'd be allowed to go out with a bang, a memorable moment fans all over the world would want to watch and watch and watch all over again, and maybe shed a tear or two over it – like they had when Grissom left. As it was they were merely transferring Catherine to some Quantico office, writing her out never to be seen or heard of again as they had Jackie, Mia, Sophia, Riley, Wendy and all the other ones who had simply disappeared over the years, like a cloud of smoke vanishing into thin air.

Poof!

Anger took hold, tears rising in her eyes at the thought. She'd given a fifth of her life to the show, 260 episodes in ruthless and gruelling schedule that would drive any actor insane. More than that though, she realised sadly, was the crushing disappointment that he still hadn't called. Surely he had to have heard by now; the news of her departure had after all been leaked to the media months ago. Not even a card, a note accompanying a bunch of flowers to wish her good luck. She'd wondered briefly if his silence wasn't a disguise to hide his turning up unannounced at the farewell party, popping out of the cake with a "Surprise!"

It hadn't happened though, and she'd finally come to the realisation that he was too busy with Gina and the babies to care. The party they'd thrown for her the previous week had been fun and well attended but when she'd realised he would never fit in the cake she'd found herself searching the crowd for his face. They'd been the two faces of CSI for nine years, nine long years for goodness sakes, and he couldn't be bothered to show up for a measly party – _her _party.

Without a moment to waste she grabbed her purse, rummaging inside for her cell. She'd have it out with him once and for all, find out the status quo, they had been friends and complicit once upon a time. She'd play it cool. The call rang five times, five agonisingly long rings before it got picked up. She blew out a breath, plastered her well-practised smile and was about to talk when the sound of the phone clanging against a hard surface as it was dropped followed by a muttered curse stopped her dead in her tracks. A baby was crying close-by. She felt better already.

She waited a few seconds for the phone to be picked up again then broke into a bright, "Billy? Hi, it's―"

"Marg?" His voice was muffled, as if he'd crammed the receiver in the crook of his neck, but he sounded pleased, if surprised, to hear her.

Her grin widened pleasurably. "The one and only. How are you?"

"Hang on a sec, will you? I got my hands full here," he said, and all she heard for a moment were the whimpering sounds of a grouchy baby and his soft voice as he tried to soothe him. Or her, she thought suddenly. She'd heard he was enjoying fatherhood, but this closely? "Gina?" he then called, drawing her out of her thoughts, "The baby needs changing."

"And you're telling me this why?"

Marg's brow rose and she stifled a snort of laughter at Gina's rejoinder.

"Bring me a diaper, will you?" he said, his voice as soft and warm and calm as ever. "And keep your voice down, I only just got Georgie to sleep." And then, "Sorry, Marg, I didn't mean to be so short. Things are crazy round here at the moment, and BJ's pooped his pants." And then obviously not addressing her but BJ - _BJ?_ - or so she hoped, "Oh, yes you have!"

"I can call back later if you want," she offered tentatively.

He cleared his throat, refocusing. "No, no. It's good to hear from you. How long has it been?"

"Too long," she replied, and doubts about the reasons for his non-show began to set in.

"How are you?"

"I'm good," she lied, moving her face closer to the mirror and noticing more tired line around her eyes. She paused, her eyes narrowing at the cooing sounds he was making. Come to think of it, she thought, the baby _had _stopped crying. She was impressed. She let out a breath and went for it. "Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

She frowned with puzzlement; he sounded genuinely unaware, which was strange considering both Carol _and_ Anthony had assured her they'd made contact with his agent about a possible appearance for her swan song episode. "I've…kind of decided to follow in your footsteps," she said quietly.

"Oh, yeah? How's that?" he said vaguely, and then to his wife in a hushed whisper, "Thanks honey."

"I'm…leaving CSI," she said in a sigh.

"Hang on. Let me put you on speaker phone while I…do this." She heard the phone being put down, the happy babbling of a baby who's looking forward to having his bottom cleaned filling the line and taking her back to distant and happy days. "So," he resumed after a while, his voice far away, "You're taking the plunge, huh? Good for you."

"It's time," she said in a chuckle.

"How come I didn't know?" he exclaimed, and then in the same breath, "Oh, dear god! Gina!" he bellowed, "I'm going to need more wipes."

Catherine couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. Who would have thought, Billy Petersen, domesticated husband and father at 58? She shook off her wistful look, returning to the matter in hand. "You didn't know I was leaving?" she said, her voice full of surprise. "But I thought…" she gave her head a shake, "Didn't Carol get in touch with you?"

"Carol? No. Well, maybe. I had to let Cynthia go," he said in a sigh, "It wasn't an easy decision to make but kind of necessary in the circumstance…hang on," and then in a hushed voice, "Thanks honey. So, yeah," he resumed, "anyway we'd gotten to the end of our road, and with the babies here now, Gina needs me home. My priorities have kind of changed."

"I can see that." A knowing smile formed on Marg's lips. Good for her, she thought, good for her. "So, who's taking care of business for you now?"

"Gina is."

Marg's well-defined brow lifted. Could Gina have deliberately kept the call from him? Refused the part on his behalf without his knowledge? The invitation to the party getting lost in the post maybe? "Well, I have an offer for you," she said brightly. "How would you like a trip to LA, all expenses paid? I was kind of hoping Grissom could be there to send me off into the sunrise, you know? My character's missed him."

"I don't know," he said, hesitating, deliberating. And then, "What's Grissom doing these days?"

Her mouth pursed in thought. "I have no idea," she exclaimed with surprise.

There was a pause, and she was beginning to wonder if she'd lost the connection on her cell when he asked, "Why are you leaving? I thought you loved playing Catherine."

Her face darkened. "I do," she replied, unable to disguise her sadness at the prospect of being unemployed at fifty, and sighed, "Or rather I did. But things aren't what they used to be. I'm ready for a change."

"I thought I was too," he said musingly, and then, "I'm sorry, Marg."

Her heart sank at his refusal. There was a lengthy pause that stretched uncomfortably, and Marg suddenly regretted her rather rash decision to call him.

"There, all done," he said with a smile in his voice. "And who's a good-smelling boy now, huh?" he half sing-sang and she couldn't help the smile on her lips any more than the disbelieving shake of the head. "Of course I'll be there," he said, the affection in his voice heart-warming. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. We had some good years, didn't we?" He paused and she nodded her head in agreement. "I'll even bring Bruno and the kids for the ride."

His voice sounded remote, as if he'd walked away from the proximity of the phone. He spoke again in a hushed, yet upbeat voice, telling the baby that it was sleepy time now, and then she heard the winding motion of a cot mobile followed by the beginning notes of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." Wow, what had happened to him?

"Would you?" she said brightly when he came back on the line, a door closing softly in the background. "I'd love to see them. You and Gina have done very well keeping them out of the press."

He made a vague humming sound, which Marg took as ascent. "I was thinking…is Grissom still married to Sara?" he asked, his tone musing, almost wistful.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice rising in interest at the change of tack. "I think Sara still wears a ring, but you'd have to ask Jorja about that." She frowned and then chastised herself for it, immediately smoothing down the crease line on her brow. "Come to think of it I can't remember Grissom being mentioned in any of the scripts I've read recently. Not since Larry's character left. Why?"

"Well, I was thinking, you know, maybe it's time they had a child. I kind of think Grissom would make a good dad, don't you?"

Marg gave a spluttering cough. "What?"

"I was thinking-"

"No, I got that bit," she cut in quickly. "Where did that idea come from?"

"Well, I kind of got it into my head that one of the twins should follow in my footsteps. Pay for their keep – unless…" He paused, his tone reflective when he asked, "Do you think they'd have me back for good?"

The trailer door burst open suddenly, the episode assistant director popping his head inside. "Marg, you're on."

Swivelling round on her make-up chair she gave the assistant director a nod. She didn't need to ask him who 'they' was; it wasn't the writers, or the producers, or the creators of the show. 'They' were the fans and she realised that he'd missed them as much as they'd missed him and as much as she'd miss hers after she left.

"In a heartbeat," she said warmly.

"And would _you_ stay if I said yes?"

Her grin returned. "In a heartbeat," she said in a whisper, and god, how she meant it.

"Tell Carol to give me a call." He paused, and she could hear the cogs of his brain slowly turning. "Actually, don't. Maybe it's best I call her myself."

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><p>AN: I know CSI can never be the same as it was, but I like the thought that with all the right ingredients it still could.


End file.
